[Congratulations! Your game Delicious Match! has surpassed 20,000 downloads!][Congratulations! Your game Delicious Match! has over 1,000 paying users!][Congratulations! Your game Delicious Match! has earned more than 31,440 star coins!]
Chu Qing glanced at the real-time backend data. The spike in downloads, paying users, and revenue had all occurred after she officially activated the platform's recommended listing yesterday.
According to the government's predictive model, all three metrics were projected to continue climbing—especially the downloads, which were growing almost exponentially. This clearly marked Delicious Match! as one of the most promising titles on the market.
Even comparing it to other games the government favored, Delicious Match! still led by a wide margin.
None of the other top-tier games came close to reaching these numbers by Day Four—not in terms of soaring downloads, user conversion rates, or average spend per user.
The most impressive metric was the game's payment conversion rate: a stunning 5%.
Before Chu Qing had transmigrated, even the most successful match-3 game of its kind had a payment rate below 1%. Yet thanks to its mass appeal, it still raked in billions in annual revenue by its third year.
So how did her version reach 5%?
Partly because this type of game was brand-new in this timeline and players found it novel. But also because she had implemented a comprehensive achievement system and a customizable display house, two features that had not yet been tapped in this world.
In short, this game had already achieved a major milestone in this timeline.
According to projections, Delicious Match! would earn 47,300 star coins tomorrow, and 51,200 the day after. With daily earnings growing by 10,000 to 20,000 star coins, the conservative estimate was that Chu Qing would make at least 2 million star coins by the end of the month.
—And that was just the conservative prediction.
At this rate, by the time she could cash out next month, she'd be more than able to buy a high-performance holographic game pod—one made specifically for pro-level game developers—and could continue creating without worry.
Chu Qing had researched this already. Since the Star Alliance was still heavily subsidizing the game industry, taxes were minimal. If she earned 2 million this month, she likely wouldn't even need to pay taxes—just refund the material and server rental costs that the Alliance had covered during development.
That night, for the first time since transmigrating to the interstellar era, Chu Qing finally slept soundly.
—
The next morning, she opened her developer backend again. Total downloads had already surpassed 40,000. Paying users had climbed past 2,500. Total revenue had exceeded 52,159.
These figures were outpacing even the official projections.
Chu Qing was still happily processing this when a new notification popped up from the authorities:
[Congratulations! Your game Delicious Match! has surpassed 150,000 mentions on StarNet. In recognition of your outstanding contribution to AI terminal game development, the Star Alliance Government is awarding you a special contribution bonus of 2,000 star coins! This will be deposited into your linked account within one working hour. (This bonus is exempt from taxation—please take note.)]
Chu Qing rubbed her eyes, somewhat in disbelief.
First, she had no idea what it meant to surpass 150,000 mentions on StarNet. Second, she was a bit stunned by the 2,000-star-coin bonus.
The government had access to her backend—they could see her revenue and projected future income. From that perspective, 2,000 coins wasn't much. Wouldn't it make more sense to give the bonus to someone who actually needed the encouragement?
Puzzled, she logged into StarNet and searched for answers.
Chu Qing didn't expect to find much for such an abstract question, but surprisingly, she did.
On a Q&A site, she found a thread titled:"Why are the special contribution bonuses for full-dive games so small, and always given to developers whose monthly revenue already exceeds 10 million?"
The top-voted response explained everything:
"Every industry has a 'Special Contribution Award.' In most sectors outside of gaming, the bonuses are generous, but they don't receive nearly the same level of government support.
If every industry gets a bonus except for games, that would cause political backlash. So the game industry also gives bonuses—but smaller ones, purely symbolic.
If it were really about 'supporting the poor,' why has no AI terminal game developer ever received one before? Of all the branches of the game industry, AI games are clearly the most underfunded."
Chu Qing was stunned.
She was the first AI terminal game developer to ever receive this honor.
As the reality set in, she dug deeper into what "StarNet mention count" actually meant. The explanation was complex, but it involved a formula that combined download stats, payment numbers, and how often the game was mentioned across the platform.
150,000 was an exceptional result—impressive even by full-dive game standards.
Now, with both the milestone and the honor, Chu Qing's joy soared.
Once the bonus hit her account, she immediately ran to the nearest 24-hour convenience store and splurged—spending over 800 star coins on a small haul of fresh ingredients:
4 eggs, 2 tomatoes, 3 eggplants, 1 jin of pork belly, 1 jin of rice, and assorted seasonings.
...Not much, but ingredients in this timeline were absurdly expensive.
Back home, she eagerly booted up her old but well-maintained auto-cooking machine.
She selected "Steamed Rice" and "Braised Pork" in two separate compartments. Following the on-screen prompts, she added the rice, pork, and seasonings.
In just five minutes, the rich aroma of freshly cooked rice and meat filled the air.
Peeking at the other side of the machine—sure enough, both dishes were ready to eat.
Chu Qing dug in with gusto. This was her first non-nutrient-paste meal since arriving in this world, and she was utterly satisfied.
After eating, she placed the dishes into the auto-dishwasher. No scraping leftovers, no arranging—just press a button, and a few moments later, everything came out sparkling clean.
For the first time, Chu Qing truly felt the convenience of high-tech interstellar living.
—
Three days later—
After enjoying several meals made by the auto-cooker, Chu Qing began to feel something was... off.
Yes, it was convenient. Yes, the food was tasty and consistent—never a bad batch.
But that was the problem.
There were no surprises, no excitement. It was all too standardized, like eating on a factory line.
Take the braised pork, for instance. Back in her old world, there were versions that were sweet and versions that were salty. But here, it had been calibrated to a "perfect balance" that pleased everyone—yet didn't fully satisfy anyone with a strong preference.
If she wanted a truly salty version? The auto-cooker simply couldn't do it.
Curious, Chu Qing searched StarNet again.
She discovered that in this world, no other cooking tools existed—no knives, no cutting boards, no stoves, no pots. Only the "auto-cooking machine" could make food.
A surprising number of citizens were fascinated by how the machine managed to produce such tasty meals.
Only in the central zones of high-tier star regions were there any human-run restaurants—and they were closed to the public and kept strictly confidential.
Chu Qing's eyes sharpened.
She had already been toying with ideas for her next game, but hadn't yet settled on a theme.
Now, a clear direction emerged.
—
From the beginning, Chu Qing had a general idea of what her second game would be.
Considering how expensive game development was, a gacha-style game with monetized pulls (ahem, not a scam at all) was the most profitable route.
At first, when she knew little about the interstellar world, she only focused on monetization mechanics.
But now, after firsthand experience and combing through StarNet feedback, she knew what she had to do:
She was going to make a culinary simulation game.
For one, Delicious Match! had proven that "food" was a naturally hot element in the interstellar game scene.
For another, she had knowledge that this world lacked—having tasted hundreds of Earth's finest dishes, watched countless cooking tutorials, and even cooked some herself.
Also, culinary management sims were a well-loved genre in her original timeline, proven to have strong market appeal.
Stack those elements together, and Chu Qing could already envision her next game shining brightly upon release.
She shook her head and set aside her daydreams, focusing on what needed to be done right now.
First, she wouldn't begin working on the new game until the end of the month—once the revenue from Delicious Match! was in and her game-developer-grade full-dive pod arrived.
Second, with about 20 days left until then, she wouldn't let that time go to waste. She would pour her energy into expanding Delicious Match!
New major levels.Special events.Limited-edition collections and food-themed rooms.All designed to boost user engagement.
In her past life, match-3 games only maintained their longevity by continually releasing new features, events, and loyalty systems.
Chu Qing would do the same—building not just a hit, but a classic.